


Wedding Day

by TheLittleMuse



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, Fluff, The wedding is just as weird as you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleMuse/pseuds/TheLittleMuse
Summary: The wedding of Harry Dresden and Karrin Murphy. Guaranteed no explosions and no deaths.





	

To be fair, I tried to do the clichéd, romantic thing. Unfortunately, a demon attacked the restaurant before I could pop the question.

For the record, dropping down to one knee in the aftermath of a demon attack and asking someone to marry you does not constitute ‘romantic’, no matter what the movies say. Keep that in mind, young wizards.

Still, she said yes after yelling at me.

Result.

 

…

 

Of course, then we started arguing about names. Anybody with a passing knowledge of magic knows that names are important. Hell, even non-magical people know that names are important, though they don’t know why. It’s just something instinctive everybody knows.

I was willing to do the double-barrelled thing, but she didn’t want to change her name at all. She’d done that twice before and, well, she was Murphy. She wanted to stay as Murphy. I could understand that, I mean, I called her Murphy most of the time, I only really called her Karrin on special occasions, but Hell, call me a chauvinistic pig, but I wanted her to take my name.

I tried to argue that the double-barrelled thing wouldn’t be so strange, that she’d still be Murphy, but as we argued I realised one thing. Two marriages had taken more from her than she liked to admit, and this one thing, this piece of identity, was something she needed to keep a hold of, and so I conceded. The hidden relief in her eyes was worth it. So we wouldn’t have the same name, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing about us.

Hey, never let it be said that I can’t be sensitive when I need to be.

 

…

 

Then came the big one. I kind of knew it had to happen, I mean, married? Lifetime commitment and all, but still, she wanted to soulgaze. I wasn’t scared of what I’d see in her soul, I knew her and I’d looked at her often enough with the Sight that I had a pretty good idea of what I’d see, but … I was scared. I’d seen some pretty twisted things, done worse things. My soul was a dark, beaten place. I didn’t want her to see that. She knew bits and pieces of course, she knew me better than anyone, but a soulgaze was more than just _knowing_. I didn’t want her to, well, change her mind about me.

On the other hand, I was terrified, but I wanted it more than anything. I loved her and I wanted to know her completely. And on a simpler level, I wanted to be able to look into her eyes without having to look away a second later.

I looked into Murphy’s eyes and was pulled into the soulgaze. At first I saw as I had seen her in the Sight; an angel in blazing fury, wounded from many battles and holding a fiery sword. We stood in a place that seemed somehow reminiscent of Murphy’s home and the police department. Strange things can happen in a soulgaze. Behind me was a younger Murphy. She too was holding a sword and her eyes were an eerie, deep black. Her body was tense with suppressed rage and no doubt anyone belittled or insulted her, this creature fed.

Beside her was another Murphy, holding a shield and looking at me with a look that was-

Oh, god, she was beautiful.

I walked and came upon a child, covered in so many cuts and in so much blood that if it had been human it would no doubt be dead. I stared, horrified and transfixed. The child looked up, eyes impossibly wide. “Help me,” it said and I stumbled back, out of the soulgaze.

Hidden scars. We all have them.

Suddenly, I was back in my apartment, breathing heavily. “Murph?” I asked, “Karrin?” She didn’t say anything.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“What did you see? Was it bad?”

Her mouth opened and no sound came out. The longest silence of my life passed until she seemed to shake herself. She smiled and wrapped her arms around me, “Not so much. It was what I expected, mostly,” she kissed me on the chin, “my battered warrior.”

Battered Warrior. I smiled, that sounded about right. I did wonder though, she had to have seen the darker aspects of my soul, what did she think of think of them? I decided to let it go though.

Yeah, sure.

“So,” Murphy asked, “what did mine look like?”

I grinned, “Well, there was a certain angel wielding a sword made of fire,” she stared at me, disbelieving. “No, really,” I said and my grin got wider, “You’re my guardian angel.”

She sighed, “Dork, you’re an utter dork.”

“Yup.”

 

…

 

Conventional wisdom goes that it is best for men to stay out of wedding planning for the sake of the sanity of all involved. Of course, conventional wisdom can go hang when neither party involved are very good at weddings and fripperies and stuff. Murphy wasn’t going to do all the work just because of tradition, Murphy was taking all the help she could get. Unless it came from her mother. Murphy’s mother was very intent on taking over the wedding planning so Karrin could ‘get it right this time’ (charming). Murphy was just as intent on doing the opposite of what her mother wanted.

I, on the other hand, had become occupied with holding Charity off. For some reason Charity seemed invested in ‘getting me married properly’. I guess when Charity recognises you as family it’s not just a small-time thing.

Now let me tell you one thing. I have fought demons, faeries, Denarians and necromancers. I have fought things that give nightmares, nightmares. I have never fought Charity Carpenter. There is a reason for that.

Vegas was looking more appealing by the second. Only Michael’s disapproving stare stopped me. _Nobody_ can do a disapproving stare like Michael, it’s equal parts disapproving, disappointed, _hurt_ and the kicker, the deep and sincere belief that you can and will do better.  

God help me.

Although, when faced with the choice, God would probably be helping Michael.

Santa help me.

 

…

 

“So, clothes,” the look on my face must have been something, because Murphy burst out laughing. I had worn suits before, but not nice ones (at least, not when I had been picking them). I had absolutely no idea where to start.

Luckily, Karrin knew more than me. Thomas knew even more than Karrin and I was pretty much kept out of the discussions, hoping that whatever I ended up with wasn’t too bad.

The suit was perfect. I opened my mouth. “You can’t wear your duster,” she said.

Like I said, Murphy knew me.

“I’m going to have to spend time weaving spells into the suit, like I’ve got in my duster.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You think we’re going to be attacked?”

“No, but Murph, it’s _us_. We have the worst luck.” She nodded and I took a breath.

“You can’t enchant my dress,” she said.

“But Murph-”

“It’s bad luck for a guy to see the dress before the wedding day, and you’ve already said we have the worst luck. Best not to push it. And it’s Holy Ground, we’ll be fine. Besides, you don’t usually enchant my clothes.”

“I’m going to start enchanting your clothes.”

She sighed.

 

…

 

Invitations. Invi-fucking-tations. Who knew that the simple process of inviting people to your own wedding could be so hazardous to your health?

Murphy was deeply embroiled in Murphy Clan Politics, which I was doing my best to stay out of, providing the necessary emotional support and alcohol when needed.

I got down to gathering my own bunch of lunatics and weirdos. The actual _family_ , family I could invite was a little strange. Nobody could know Thomas was my brother, so he would be sitting at the back, pretending to be a casual acquaintance invited for political reasons. (Ebenezer nearly exploded when he heard I was inviting a vampire, so that was bound to go well. Ebenezer doesn’t like vampires, especially White Court, for … various reasons). Maggie, similarly, would be appearing as one of the Carpenters, rather than as my daughter. And Ebenezer, who I had only recently found out was my grandfather, would be appearing as my former mentor (which he was, really).

I also invited a bunch of the (mostly younger) Wardens. After a moment’s hesitation I added Anastasia Luccio’s name to the list, although I wasn’t sure whether she would show. Inviting your ex-girlfriend to your wedding is weird. Inviting your ex-girlfriend who was brainwashed into dating you, who is also, kind-of, your boss (when you’re not following orders from the Queen of Air and Darkness, that is) is just, well, my life.

Fix was on my list, which caught me a few side eyes. I suppose the Summer Knight coming to the Winter Knight’s wedding was a bit unusual, but hey. He’s my friend.

My list was still somewhat shorter that Karrin’s, and some, like Butters, ‘belonged’ to both of us. Some I wasn’t sure whether they would turn up because they were a little, shall we say, ‘shy’ of Holy Ground, but if they didn’t make it to the ceremony, they might make it to the reception afterwards.

 

…

 

The next challenge was asking Michael to be my best man. I had no doubt that he would say yes, but some things are nerve-wracking no matter what the situation. Besides, if a man is asking _Michael Carpenter_ to be their best man, well, they’ve got to stand up a little straighter just so they don’t look so … inadequate beside him. Not that I was worried Murphy would run off with him or anything, and obviously Michael would never leave Charity, just if two men are standing in the aisle and one is Michael Carpenter, former Fist of God and you’re Harry Dresden, Battered Wizard, you want to shape up a little so you don’t look too bad.

 

…

 

And then the day sort of crept up on me. It was a surprise because I had been counting down the minutes to it since I’d first blurted out the question.

My wedding day. Hell’s bells, I was actually getting married.

 

…

 

I stood at the altar as the Star Wars theme began to play. I had expected Karrin to shoot down that suggestion, but it turned out she had bad memories associated with the traditional Wedding March, so she had accepted John William’s masterpiece with only minimum eye rolls.

And then she entered.

Let me tell you, I’ve seen beautiful women. As the Winter Knight, I’ve been surrounded by inhumanly beautiful Sidhe, the type who drove artists mad trying to recreate their beauty. I’ve had vampire succubi try to seduce me. I’ve had Lasciel, the Seducer, whisper a thousand temptations in my ear for years on end.

None of them held a candle to Karrin as she walked down the aisle, a wide grin, the type she wore all too rarely, on her face. I grinned like a gormless idiot in response and she wobbled slightly, unused to walking in high heels.

Karrin reached the altar and, thanks to the heels, she almost reached my nose, which meant that I had to place a little kiss on it. She has a very cute nose. She gave me a semi-glare in response and we both took a deep breath and turned to Father Forthill. He gave us a calm, fatherly smile and began.

“We are gathered here today.”  

 

…

 

Nothing exploded. Nothing burnt down. Nobody attacked us. Seriously. I’m just as shocked as you are.

 

…

 

The reception was a mess. Multiple people had been involved in trying to plan it, including at least two wizards and a few faeries, all trying to out-spectacle each other. It was brilliant. There were the normal fireworks and sparklers. I spotted doves at one point (yeah, I had doves). There was even a unicorn. Maggie seemed quite taken with the unicorn and I made sure it was on its best behaviour. The last thing I wanted was my daughter being gutted because a damn unicorn got bored at my wedding (seriously, unicorns get the best press, the bastards). There were also multiple piles of pizza boxes, off limits to the other guests, and dewdrop faeries whizzing around the place, creating little motes of light that were really quite beautiful.

I briefly wondered what the ‘normal’ guests (read: Murphy’s family) thought of all the weirdness, but I hoped they would put it down to too much champagne and Mac’s beer. (Mac had sent crates of his beer as a wedding gift. Sometimes I love that man). I knew from experience that while some might question it (and, if they were sincere, Murphy wouldn’t lie to them) most would just manage to ignore it. Really, Humans, as a species we’re fairly hopeless.

 

…

 

Murphy had abandoned her high heels as soon as she could, which gave me an excuse to pick her up. Murph had given a token objection, but, well, there’s a reason it’s called bridal style.

Of course, then came the dancing. Now, I’m not a bad dancer so long as nobody asks me to do the tango, but tradition demanded we had the first dance and believe you me, my dancing skills really deteriorate when everybody’s staring at me.

Plus, Murphy was in a dress. And her hands were in interesting places. And she was close to me. Really, really close to me.

My stupid animal brain was not thinking about dancing.

I pulled her closer because that was going to make things better.

“Hmmm,” she purred, “Mr Murphy,” she said, her voice caressing each syllable.

“Mrs Dresden,” I countered with a suggestive smirk. I was breathing her air, not quite kissing her. We weren’t really dancing anymore, just swaying gently in time to the music.

There were speeches to be said and listened to, food to be eat and a million and one other wedding traditions to be completed, but all either of could think of then was slipping away to some secret spot.

Stupid animal brains.

 

…

 

Karrin’s Maids and her Maid of Honour were an odd bunch, given that most of her friends were from the police department, despite her recent ‘early retirement’. Because the police had something of a gender imbalance her Maids had more Y chromosomes than you might expect Maids to have. Despite this, they were still wearing dresses (tradition, apparently). Butters took the Maid of Honour slot due the fact that he wore the dress best, something that Andi found very interesting.

(Something that I never needed to know, but Butters told me anyway. What are friends for?)

Normally, I suppose, her best friend would be taking the Maid of Honour slot, but unfortunately she was marrying me. One of the downsides of marrying your best friend, I suppose.  

(Mama Murphy’s suggestion that Baby Sister Lisa be the Maid of Honour had been shot down with fire. Despite her potentially filling out the dress better, I think it was for the best. There was enough risk of explosions already).

 

…

 

The speeches were a strange mix of embarrassing, stupid and moving and I didn’t cry.

 

…

 

I don’t like parties. There are always too many people. Too many people pretending. There’s always a fight about to start in some corner. There’s a crowded sickness to parties that I’m always on the edge of. An outsider.

But this party. These people. That night I felt so in love with everything and everyone that you might as well have started putting flowers in my hair.

 

…

 

At the end of the night, tired and more than a little tipsy, we got pulled along passages of the Nevernever to our mysterious honeymoon destination. Neither of us had been involved in planning it, since we were ‘hopeless workaholics’ and didn’t know anything about taking a good holiday (they were probably right). My only contribution had been insisting that it wasn’t in Hawaii. I had gotten a few strange looks at that, but they had complied. Murph had just rolled her eyes.

We were shown to our hotel and left in the room with winks and nudges.

Karrin had immediately stretched herself out onto the bed and I climbed on top of her, trailing kisses from her cheek to her neck, to her mouth, “We have all night,” I whispered.

“Hmmm, all night,” she said, whispering kisses back. “All night,” she stretched and luxuriated in the softness of the bed and I moved with her. She smiled a content smile, “and tomorrow. Tomorrow, the rest,” her fingers traced my lips, “the rest of our lives, in fact.”

She curled against me and so we shucked out of our clothes and fell asleep, entangled together in each other’s warmth.

We had the rest of our lives.

 

…

 

As for the next morning. Well. We were late for breakfast. And lunch. But you don’t need to know about that.


End file.
